Chapter 09
Liam gets to the bottom of the matter
Liam's eyes slowly opened. In the dawn light he made out the wood planks upon the cabin ceiling; he heard the subdued lapping of water against the hull. He pushed himself to sitting. His head was pounding and his stomach felt dodgy. Jesus! How much had he drunk? Sliding cautiously out of the berth he took up the water pitcher and had a long drink. Moving with great deliberation, he set it upon the desk, then began searching through a locker till he found a vial of willow bark tincture. He poured some in the water pitcher, sloshed it about, and drank the rest of the water.
The main cabin was deserted when he went to refill the pitcher. With bleary eyes he looked at Anya's closed cabin door --- his mind in a fog. Back in his cabin he filled the basin with water and proceeded to wash himself; the cold water and rough, soapy cloth a small restorative.
Grabbing his blanket and the water pitcher, he went topsides to rinse in the lake. The cold plunge cleared the fog, but he still felt ill when he climbed back aboard and wrapped himself in the blanket. He drank another pitcher full of water, then lay upon the cockpit seat, his eyes closing against the pain in his head; the cool breeze touched his face.
He woke again several hours later. The sun was full risen. 'Twas nigh ten o'clock he realized, sitting up stiffly. He could not remember the last time he had woken so late. The little cove was empty save for the
Selkie
serene upon her anchor line. Glancing down the open companionway he saw no sign of activity below.
With the blanket draped round his shoulders he stepped onto the side deck and emptied his bursting bladder overboard. His cock was tender to the touch --- indeed his whole pelvis felt battered. His body otherwise was largely restored to a sound state; however, his heart was in acute misery.
How had the passage of a mere six days thrown his life into such turmoil?
He sat upon the cockpit coaming and stared out over the water. In the morning sunlight, the reds, oranges, and yellows of the trees along the shore were a brilliant sight, interrupted by white slashes of birch trunks. 'Twas one of Liam's favorite spots upon the lake, but it offered him no comfort.
With the wind direction and speed, they would arrive in Toronto in under three hours. Three hours. Then she would be gone...gone from his life forever.
The events of the previous night weighed upon him. No matter how much her revelation had stung, he was profoundly disturbed at his own behavior. Although he imbibed only occasionally, he was no novice when it came to strong spirits; however even on his most debauched bender in the navy, he had never acted the lout. What the devil had possessed him? He had used her ill and had done nothing to recommend himself to her. She was just a wee innocent girl, beset by ruthless men desperate to have her. He had wanted to be her champion... had he now sunk to their level? 'Twas no wonder she had fled, most likely in horror.
Shite! Three hours --- he had to think --- there had to be a way.
He went below and lit the stove to heat water. He dressed and set about putting his cabin back in order, stowing the whiskey bottle, tidying the desk, and making the berth. As he did so he encountered the jar of salve; he looked at it in his palm, images from last night coming clear in his mind. His face burned in shame and, to his even greater shame: excitement. He knew he had taken her in her arsehole --- his body tingled reliving the singular sensations and sights of the act...
By and by he remembered the kettle and returned to the galley, a little giddy. He had a cup of tea and a piece of hard tack while he prepared a cup of tea for Anya.
With the steaming cup he knocked upon her door. "Anya?" No reply. Again he knocked without response. He tried the handle and found it unlocked. Upon entering he immediately almost tripped over the water basin, which was upon the floor with the pitcher and other bathing implements.
She was wrapped in a blanket, curled upon her side in the berth, facing away from him. "I have some tea for ye, Anya," he said quietly. She did not respond. He set the cup upon the desk and stepped closer to the berth. "Anya..." he murmured. She curled up more tightly.
He gazed at her back, then began again. "Anya, 'tis sorry I be for my conduct last night. I was a brute and a cad --- I could kill myself for how I hurt ye. Please forgive me."
He leaned against the side of the berth and tentatively reached his hand toward her. When he touched her hair, she turned her head further away. He stroked her tumbled hair, pulling entrapped locks out of the blanket. Suddenly a mark upon her neck caught his eye; he brushed the hair up from her nape and leaned closer. 'Twas a bruise. He drew the edge of the blanket down and stared in shock. Upon the nape of her neck were a purplish sucking mark and pink arcs of teeth prints --- one with broken skin. "Jesus! I'm sorry lass! I'm sorry. Dinna move."
Quickly he fetched the balm from his cabin. She was as he had left her. He placed the open jar upon her mattress and moved her hair and the blanket aside to apply balm to the wound. She lay motionless. With a sense of unease, he pulled the blanket further down. Her back was bare...to his dismay he discovered a light bruise between her shoulder blades.
"I'm sorry lass," he said again, his fingertips soothingly brushing over her skin. What the hell had he done? In consternation he drew the blanket completely off --- she was naked. More bruises were apparent. He swore at himself under his breath. "Let me tend to ye," he mumbled.
She resisted not as he rolled her onto her belly so more light shone upon her. He examined her. There was a series of hazy oval bruises upon her pale buttocks, with larger paired marks upon either side of the cleft --- clearly the marks of his fingers and thumbs. He softly rubbed her smooth, round cheeks, mortified at his boorishness. In trepidation, he carefully clasped her buttocks, avoiding the bruises, and spread her unresisting bottom open to inspect her anus.
What he saw first was a small cluster of faint bite marks upon her lower inner cheeks next to the opening. Jesus! He had been a bloody savage! None appeared to have pierced the skin. Her little hole itself appeared somewhat swollen, and a more vivid pink hue. To his relief he saw no blood and no rents.
Holding one cheek aside, he scooped up more balm. Her anus flinched when he touched it; she whimpered. Very gently he rubbed the balm generously into the little folds and the surrounding flesh, caressing the delicate, silky skin, feeling the firm ring of muscle. Taking another dollop, he placed the pad of his middle fingertip directly upon her opening and massaged and pressed upon it till his finger opened her sphincter and penetrated her arse.
He slowly twisted his finger in the constrictive aperture, rubbing the salve into it. He pushed in a little further and repeated the motions. His eyes were fixed in fascination upon the novel sight of his large, calloused finger up the bottom hole of a bonnie young lass. The hot slick grip, by turns fighting his intrusion then tugging him in, cast his mind back to the events of last night...he swallowed hard...his cock began to rise again in his trousers. Although she otherwise was still, he noticed the movement of her back with her breathing had quickened.
At length he realized that his doctoring had transformed into his finger sensuously stroking in and out of her anus. His face reddened and he pulled his finger out, her pucker nipping shut behind him.
He eased her onto her back. She kept her eyes closed and her head turned away --- her cheeks noticeably flushed, but otherwise lay unmoving as he surveyed her front side. Her beautiful breasts were unmarked, but there was a welt like scratch running from her navel to her cunny hair. He parted her legs --- a few more light bite marks upon her inner thighs. With his finger and thumb he spread her lips and bent closer to look. The edges of her hymen were a bit puffy and reddened, in keeping with the recent flurry of vigorous amorous exercise, but he found no acute injury.
He gazed at her dear cunny sorrowfully. Her little flower seemed so closed and far away --- as if she were already gone. Her skin was almost cool under his fingers. "Anya," he murmured. Oh how he wanted to feel her blossom for him again!
He withdrew his fingers, then leaned over the berth and kissed her mound, then her clitoris. Limply she lay as he opened her legs wider. Where he had bitten last night, now he kissed, tender, remorseful kisses all over her inner thighs, clitoris and lips. His tongue came out and caressed her...softly, ever so softly, like the beating of a butterfly's wings, he licked her bud and lips and hymen. Wake for me, my Anya, wake.
Although she moved not, he presently detected a subtle swelling in her flesh and started to taste her sweet lass cream. The tip of his tongue dragged lovingly through her crevice to lap up the treasure, then jigged up and down upon her clitoris to urge forth more. Suddenly he felt her body move and realized that she was crying.
He rose and saw her eyes open, looking at him, tears spilling from her heavy lashes. Heedless of his boots, he climbed into the berth and lay between her open legs, gathering her into his arms. "Dinna cry, Anya." He kissed her falling tears. "I love ye. I'll take care of ye." She shook her head weakly, her fingers clutching his shirt at his sides. "Aye, lass." He sought out her trembling mouth and kissed it, pressing against her soft, pulpy lips, trying to hold onto her life breath.
He stroked her hair, her face, her shoulder. Then somehow her breast was in his hand...and he was pushing his tongue into her mouth. He could not resist her tender charms --- she was stark naked under him, and although he was fully clothed, his body was permeated with the feel of her...her quivering breasts, her little mound. God help him, he could not resist her!
Groaning he lifted his hips and reached down to unbutton his trousers and pull out his cock. He mounted her, finding her soft, moist chink with his broad crown...and knowing she must be sore, pushed gently. Slowly, slowly her opening expanded and accepted his cockhead. She moaned and her fingers dug into his flanks. Easing his weight onto her, scarce pushing, he let her snug cunny take in his organ at her own pace. He looked into her eyes as he sank full into heaven. Oh love!
He moved in her carefully.
"Li...am," she sighed tremulously. Her arms and legs went round him, holding him tightly.
"Stay with me Anya," he urged. "Marry me."
Their fused organs undulated together
Her shining eyes held his gaze. "I ...can't," she whispered between panting breaths, a tear running down her cheek.
